Stuck
by tonystarksnipples
Summary: "Tony and Steve hated each other. It had been like that since day one. They hadn't gotten into any arguments lately, mostly because they had been keeping their distance, but now that didn't really seem like an option. The cabin was fairly large as far as cabins go, but it was still a cabin." Stony.


Tony hated the cabin.

He had hated it since he was a kid. One of his first memories was at the cabin. He and his parents were going to spend a weekend away from the bullshit of being The Stark Family. Tony remembered being so excited. He had to have been no older than six. The driver picked him up at boarding school and he was going to meet his parents there. He bounced in his seat the entire way. The driver unloaded his bags for him and then drove away. The cabin was unlocked and he heaved his heavy bags in all by himself. There was no tech in the cabin, which is why it was such a perfect getaway; they were really going to _get away_.

His parents weren't there yet, so he decided he'd sit on the couch and wait for them. They couldn't be long right? Well, he told himself that all of Friday night and most of Saturday day until he finally got worried. He walked down the mile long driveway and then another two miles to the small town and asked the worker at the gas station to use the phone. He called his parents. His mother answered the phone, which was rare.

_"Stark residence."_

_"Mom, where are you?"_

_"Tony? Where are _you_?"_

_"I'm at the cabin. Remember?"_

_"Oh sweetie, that was _this _weekend? We're very sorry. It must have slipped our minds. We'll go to the cabin another time."_

He remembered putting the phone down in a daze. He couldn't believe his parents had forgotten him. They hadn't even told the driver. He had just been _left_ there. He will never forget the way the worker at the gas station looked at him with those sad eyes.

_"Is there anyone else you can call?"_

_"My driver."_

_"Your driver?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"How old are you?"_

_"Six."_

_"And you have a driver?"_

_"I'm Tony Stark."_

It was also the first time he had used that as the answer to a question. From then on, most _how_ and _why_ questions were answered with "I'm Tony Stark" and people accepted it. He called the driver and was picked up late that night. He didn't want to go back to school early—he had told everyone how excited he was to be spending the weekend away with his parents—but he couldn't bare to go home and see his family. He asked the driver to get him a hotel room so he could stay the night somewhere and then be driven back to school in the morning. No one wants to say no to a kid who had just been stood up by his parents, so he obliged.

He swore he'd never come back to the cabin. He swore that when he inherited the money and was in charge of the family name that it would be the first thing he got rid of. He never forgot about the cabin, but when the time came, he couldn't bring himself to sell it. Instead, he kept it as a reminder to never romanticize his parents after their death. The cabin was a reminder of just how important to them he was.

Yet here he was on Christmas Eve, alone in it. The rest of the team was supposed to meet him there, but the storm was too severe for them to trek into the woods. He had gone early in case he had some kind of emotional meltdown at first sight, but he hadn't. Instead he just felt like he needed a scotch or seven and then he'd be fine.

He got a call about an hour ago that they wouldn't be joining him. Thor would have come, but Jane was pregnant and he didn't want to fly with her. The rest just didn't want to travel in the storm. Some superheroes they were. The cabin was still void of tech. He didn't even have JARVIS to keep him company. He could leave, but he didn't like flying in the snow unless he had to. He figured he could stick it out for one night.

The sound of the creaking door opening and someone stomping their boots off in the little mud room startled him from his slumped and drunken position on the couch. He got up, slightly afraid that some random forest-rapist had gotten into his house. He turned the corner and…

"Fucking perfect."

"Huh?" Steve asked, taking off his coat and hanging it up. "Where is everyone else?"

"Probably at the tower where it's warm and there isn't a blizzard? I figured you were with them. Why are you here?"

Steve was breathing heavy from the cold. "I thought I was running late. I heard my phone ring a couple of times, but I figured it was just someone calling to wonder where I was. I couldn't remember which pocket I put it in and I figured it could wait."

Tony rolled his eyes and turned around. "Of all the people to show up, it had to be fucking _Rogers_?" he muttered to himself as he walked away.

"I heard that."

Tony and Steve hated each other. It had been like that since day one. They hadn't gotten into any arguments lately, mostly because they had been keeping their distance, but now that didn't really seem like an option. The cabin was fairly large as far as cabins go, but it was still a _cabin_.

Tony hated the cabin.

Steve had finally taken off all of his layers and was sitting on the couch across from Tony. Two couches. One coffee table. Four feet resting on it. They looked everywhere but each other. The silence was heavy around them. They were both too stubborn to be the first to speak.

The lights flickers before going out.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" Tony shouted. "Okay big guy, come with me. Candles should be in the back." They walked together to the back of the house, using Tony's phone as a flashlight. They found the candles and brought out dozens. Tony pulled a lighter from his pocket and started lighting the candles.

"Why do you have a lighter?"

"I learned very young that you should always carry a lighter with you, no matter where you are going or what you are doing, even if you don't smoke." He was just about finished with the candles. "Pretty solid advice if you ask me."

"I guess so."

"Well, I'm going to retire for the night. Great seeing you." Tony was halfway to his room before he heard Steve quietly say his name. "Yeah?" he asked, turning back.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't know. Why do _you_ hate _me_?"

"I don't hate you."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't. I never hated you."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

Steve sighed. "Okay, so maybe I wasn't exactly _taken_ with you the first time we met, but that doesn't mean… I figured out that I was wrong, but… I always wanted to apologize, but you just… you _hate_ me."

Tony looked back on it. He always figured that he and Steve's first interaction would be the way their relationship worked. He thought Steve hated him, so he decided to hate Steve, too. He hadn't bothered to look at what happened with them in between. "Well… maybe I don't hate you. I don't know. But I'm tired, so night."

"Night," Steve whispered.

Tony started a fire in the master bedroom and stared at his flashing shadow on the wall. Steve didn't hate him? He tried to remember everything that had happened in the months since New York. Had Steve ever been the first to pick a fight? Tony couldn't think of a single time. Had Steve ever been mean to him, or had Tony just flipped out over the little things? The more he thought about it, the more he felt like a colossal dick.

He thought of Steve sitting out there in the cold, not knowing where the firewood was, totally alone. He grumbled something about wishing he wasn't such a good person and shuffled into the living room. Steve, apparently, had found the firewood. He was sitting on the couch, staring at the flames. His eyes were bloodshot and there were tear stains on his face.

"Steve?"

"_What_?" Steve spat.

"What's wrong?"

"You know, when I asked you why you hated me, you just said that it was because I hated you. How could have known that when you didn't ask? And you never denied that you hated me, even after you found out that you had no actual basis."

"You're crying over that?"

"No. I'm crying over the fact that this is my first Christmas in seventy years, everyone I love is gone and the only person I have is drunk and hiding from me. I'm _lonely_, Tony. I've been lonely since I was unfrozen. Why can't anyone see that?"

"Oh, _please_, Steve. You live with five other people. Six, if you count Coulson's constant presence. You aren't alone.

"You know better than anyone that alone and lonely are not synonymous."

"Why me better than anyone?"

"I_ know_ that you know understand loneliness. I know that you understand what it's like to be surrounded by people, but feeling as if you were alone." Steve wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "In the beginning I thought that maybe that understanding would help make us closer or something, but you hate me, so…"

"I never would have guessed."

"Yeah, well…"

Tony noticed for the first time that Steve had the bottle of scotch next to him. "You can't get drunk."

"It's been a while since I tried. I don't have anything better to do."

"And?"

"Nothing."

Tony was about to say something about not wasted the perfectly good booze, but realized that wouldn't help the situation at all. Instead, he went from standing awkwardly in the doorway to sitting on the couch opposite Steve. "I don't hate you," Tony realized out loud.

"Yes, you do. You said so yourself."

"I thought I did until about thirty seconds ago."

"You can't just decide to stop hating someone."

"I didn't decide. I realized. There's a difference." Tony grabbed the bottle from Steve and tipped his head back, taking a long gulp. "But do you want to know what I really do hate, have always hated, and will always hate?"

"What?"

"This fucking holiday and this fucking cabin."

"Why do you hate Christmas?"

"Once upon a time, five year old Tony gets out of bed on Christmas morning and runs downs the stairs. There is the giant Christmas tree that the butler set up and decorated. Under it are hundreds of gifts of all shapes and sizes. Hundreds. He goes into mommy and daddy's room, but they aren't there. Five year old Tony spends Christmas morning sitting in front of the tree screaming so he can hear the echoes of something in the house until the nanny comes and tells him to quiet down." Tony took another long pull from the bottle. First the cabin and now Christmas? He'd die of alcohol poisoning before morning if any other sweet childhood memories came to his brain for a little visit.

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"You're shaking."

"I'm _fine_," Tony insisted.

"No, you're not." Steve stood up from his couch and moved to the spot next to Tony. Tony's whole body tensed up when Steve touched him. _What the hell?_ Steve enveloped him in a warm embrace. Under any other circumstances, Tony would have shoved him away. This was _Steve_. Jesus. Just because he didn't hate him, didn't mean he _liked_ him. But Steve was warm and Tony was cold, so he melted into him.

It was a long time before either of them said anything, but Tony was the first to break the silence. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"You're really warm."

"It's the—"

"Serum. Yeah. I know. I know all about the serum and what it does and how it does it."

"You do?"

"I know you think of me as Howard's son but I've been holding onto the hope that some time you'd see him as Tony's dad."

"What?"

"C'mon. You can't be that dense. You're Howard's prized possession. I could never compete with you. When I was eight I found all the paperwork on you and read through it, trying to figure out some way to—" Tony's throat tightened and he reached for the bottle, but it was too far away and he'd have to leave Steve's arms. He couldn't bear to leave Steve's arms. At least not right now.

"To what?" Tony buried his face into Steve's chest and shook his head. "To what, Tony?"

"I wanted to be more like you. Okay? Now you know why I hated you! It wasn't because I thought you hated me. It was because you were everything he said you were and everything that I could never be. You may not be perfect, but you were perfect in the eyes of Howard Stark. I had spent so much of my life trying to be _just like you_ and when I realized that I couldn't be, I became the anti-you. I didn't much care either way because when he died it was almost like you died again, too. But then they found you and you were _alive_ and we met and every time I fucking talk to you all I can think about is how he loved _you_ like a son and treated _me_ like a creation, when it was supposed to be the other way around."

Steve wasn't the slightest bit offended at Tony calling him a creation, because it was what he was. At least, that's all he should have been to Howard. He always thought of Howard as a great man. He knew Tony had problems with him, but he figured that was just because the way Tony was. He never even stopped to think that maybe Howard wasn't the man he remembered.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything. It's just hard growing up in the shadow of Captain America."

"That was wrong of him."

"He did worse." Tony shrugged but didn't elaborate. They listened to the crackle of the fire for a long while before Tony spoke again. "I knew Peggy, you know."

"Did you?" Steve didn't know why he was shocked.

"Yeah. She and my dad stayed friends after the war. She wasn't a constant or anything, but I met her on more than one occasion."

"And was she… did she?"

"Treat me like shit? No."

There was a small smile on Steve's face at the thought. Just because his memory of Howard had been shot to hell, he still had the memory of Peggy. Sweet and kind and beautiful Peggy. "Do I want to know about your hatred for the cabin?"

"No."  
"Okay." Steve pretended not the feel the small pool of wetness that was seeping through his shirt and onto his skin. He pretended not to feel Tony shaking with tiny sobs. Tony knew he was pretending—there was no way Steve could not have felt it—and he was eternally grateful. Steve really was perfect.

"Howard may have been a horrible father, but he was right about you. You're amazing."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

"For complimenting me?"

"No. I'm sorry for wasting seven months."

"You're not the only one at fault."

"I know." Tony pulled out of Steve's arms. He felt the cold slam into him immediately, but he ignored it. "I'm sorry."

"For what this time?"

Tony didn't answer. He just stared into Steve's eyes for ten eternal seconds before leaning in and kissing him on the lips. It was just four lips pressed together, no open mouths or tongues. He pulled away when it seemed like Steve's eyes were going to bulge out of his head.

"What the hell?"

"I apologized in advance. I'm not going to do it again."

"You better not."

"What?"

"I'm not sorry you did it, but can I ask why?"

"I hate the cabin."

"Okay?"

"And I hate Christmas."

"I don't see where this is going."

"And I hated you." Steve looked hurt. "Hated. Past tense. See, that's the thing. I thought I hated you but I changed my mind in a big way and I figured maybe if I could change my mind about you than I could change my mind about this place and this holiday and all of it…"

"So you kissed me?"

"Is that bad?"

"No." Then, after a moment. "Will you kiss me again?"

"No."

"What?"

"C'mere." Tony got off of the couch and extended his hand down to Steve. Steve took it and stood. Tony didn't let go of his hand as he led him to his bedroom.

"Tony, I don't—"

"I'm not going to try to sleep with you. God, you really have a low opinion of me." Steve blushed. "No, it's warmer in here and there are blankets and _I'm_ cold." Tony pushed his pants down his legs and stepped out of them before getting in the bed.

"What?"

"Jeans are such a snuggle boner kill."

"I don't get you." Steve took of his jeans as well and crawled into the bed. "You'd stay warmer if you had pants on."

"I have a fire, a whole lotta blankets, and the human torch to keep me warm."

"I'm not the human torch."

"No? You look like him. Whatever. You're still toasty warm." Tony snuggled up against Steve. "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes."

Tony laced their fingers together and titled his head back to give Steve access to his lips. As the kiss deepened, Steve pushed Tony down so he was lying on his back with Steve above him. "You're a good kisser," Tony mumbled against Steve's lips.

"Thanks. No body's ever told me that before."

"Really?"

"Well, I've kissed two whole people in my life and I died before I ever got the chance to ask them."

"You didn't die."

"They thought I did."

"Two people?"

"Yeah." Steve smiled the first real smile Tony had seen on his face since New York. Everything came back in a rush. The way his heart felt when it started again. The fear that came along with having been dead. The way Steve just sank back and said _We won_. The way he smiled at him as if seeing Tony alive was the only thing that mattered that day…

Tony grabbed the back of Steve's head and pulled him down. The kiss wasn't comforting or soft; it was hungry and desperate. Steve's inexperience showed as he fought to keep up, but Tony didn't care. He was in love with Steve. He was in fucking love with him. He didn't even realize it. He was too busy hating himself and pushing that hate onto Steve that he missed the fact that he was in love with him.

"Jesus Christ I'm in love with you," he panted.

"You are the most bipolar man I have ever met. What the hell?"

"I just don't have a filter and I say things without thinking them through and I'm also very out of tune with myself and I'm in love with you."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Whatever." But he said it with a smile and he leaned back in to kiss him, so Tony took that as a good _whatever_.

* * *

"_Steve? Thank God! Where the hell have you been and why haven't you answered you phone?_"

"Sorry mom, didn't know you'd be so worried about me." When had he started talking like Tony?

"_I swear to God Steve, I will kick you ass_…"

"At the cabin. I'm at the cabin with Tony."

"_Then why are you calling? Is he dead? Did you kill him? Are you fatally injured? Are you bleeding? Do you need a medical team?_"

"Jeez Natasha, we're fine, everything's fine." And fine it was. Tony had fallen asleep soon after he proclaimed his love. He had been pretty drunk and Steve was afraid that he wouldn't remember any of it when he woke up. Alas, Steve awoke to the feeling of Tony's beard nuzzling against his cheek and a soft purring sound he was making in his ear.

"_Where is he?_" Steve heard Clint shout.

"_At the cabin with Tony!_" Natasha shouted back.

"_Did they kill each other or sleep together?_" Clint shouted back. _Sleep together?_ Did Clint know? How could Clint have known if Steve and Tony hadn't known? Were they that transparent.

"Sleep together?" Steve asked.

"_Well did you?_" Natasha asked.

"No, not exactly but—"

"_They're together!_" she shouted. There were a lot of shouts on the other end of the line, and Steve's pretty sure he heard Thor boom _FINALLY_.

"Did you _plan_ this?"

"_No, but we wish we did. We've been waiting for it to happen for months._"

"What is she saying? Put her on speaker phone," Tony demanded, coming back into the room. The power was still out when they woke up and he had been trying to figure out if it was something wrong in the house or something wrong with the power lines. Since there were no lights, Steve figured it was the power lines.

"Apparently we were supposed to fall in love months ago."

"_You two are already at _love?_ Wow. Must have been a hell of a night._"

"Can it, bird brain, and give the phone back to Natasha."

"_Spoilsport,_" Clint muttered, but there was some shuffling and then Natasha announced her return.

"_So are you going to be coming back and spending Christmas with the rest of us, or are you going to stay there an unwrap each other?_"

Steve blushed and Tony grinned. "Well, it's only fair after all. We all know you and Tweety Bird have been unwrapping each other for months. Can you believe it, Steve? Darn kids can't even wait for Christmas to open their presents." Steve laughed silently into his hands.

"_Stark, I _will_ kill you one of these days. It's just a matter of time._"

"Whatever."

"_And I know you're laughing, Steve, so I suggest you stop_."

"Yes ma'am." Steve fought the laughter but didn't bother to stop the smile. It's not like Natasha could _see_ them.

"We're going to say goodbye now." Tony hung up the phone. He shifted his weight so that he was leaning against Steve. "So what do you want to do? Do you wanna go home or would you rather stay here."

Steve ran his fingers through Tony's hair absentmindedly. "Hmm… I like the idea of staying here. Candles and fireplaces. Shut off from the world. Just you and I." He began to kiss Tony lightly in between words.

"I'll have to go to the store."

"For what?"

"Sex stuff. Condoms. Lube. If we're staying here and there is no electricity and all we have is the smell of burning fire wood and I have to watch the way the fire marks the shadows of your body, then there is no way that I can possibly keep it in my pants."

Steve blushed and looked down. "Oh."

"Do you not want to? We can still go back to the tower."

"Oh no, I want to."

"Thank God." Tony kissed Steve one last time before getting off the bed. "I'll be right back."

"Okay."

Tony got in the suit wearing nothing but yesterday's shirt and his boxers. He couldn't be bothered to care if some asshole with a camera phone took a picture of him. It was Christmas Day and he was allowed to look like a lazy douche. He hadn't even bothered to do his hair. As he flew, he realized that, for the first time in his life, the cabin wasn't a reminder of his parents' neglect and that Christmas didn't represent a lonely childhood. It was all thanks to Steve.

Tony loved Steve.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
Merry Christmas! I love you all!  
Didja catch my fourth wall break up there? I'm so funny.**


End file.
